


I'll always come for you

by emmadilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Castiel, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Sex Slave Dean, Sex Trafficking, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-06 03:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13402344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmadilla/pseuds/emmadilla
Summary: When Dean disappears one night, Castiel vows to find him, no matter what.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a prompt posted in the Destiel prompt group on facebook by @JenSpinner. She also writes some cool stuff, so check her out, too!

The relationship between Dean Winchester and Castiel had been unique, if nothing else. It had all started when the angel had pulled the righteous man from the pits of hell, just a chance meeting, truly. Angels had never before breached the fallen kingdom, much less on a rescue mission for a human. But ever since they had met, it seemed that their fates were intertwined, like they had always meant to have met. Since then, Cas had rejected heaven, sided with the Winchesters and humanity, been killed and raised countless times, had his grace taken away and turned human, regained his grace and a measure of his power, and through it all the one constant in his life was Dean. They had struggled together, fought together, almost died together. And through the difficulties and the battles, they had both found a certain comfort in the other. At first it had merely been unspoken, the extra check in, the lingering looks, the errant caress given if the other was injured. Over time, however, it had become obvious that their connection, their bond, was deeper and more profound than even Castiel had thought. It had taken an immense amount of courage to finally face Dean and admit what he felt, what he hoped that the hunter felt as well. He swore he would have rather faced Lucifer alone, but the risk paid off and their relationship had progressed from there.

  


They were still hunters. They still took cases and ganked monsters and saved innocent people, the whole nine yards. The only real difference was, if Sam was traveling with them, they got two separate motel rooms, so Dean and Cas could have a little privacy. They weren’t the lovey dovey type of couple, so they weren’t all over each other like some people were. They did, however, stand just a little closer to each other, glance at each other more often, let their hands brush against the other a little more. It was the subtle closeness during the day that hinted at theintimacy that followed at night, when they were all hands and lips and desire. Or, just lying together mostly naked, skin to skin, basking in the company of the other without the inherent need for sex. The sex was good, of course, but their relationship was so much more than physical. Hell, it hadn’t been physical at all for years, and while they made up for lost time, they always remembered the real basis of their bond.

  


Dean was still human, though, and once in a while he needed to do human things. Go out to bars, have a few drinks, relax and unwind a little. It was probably his favourite modus operandi and it made a pretty predictable night for Cas. He would always go with Dean, of course, not because he didn’t trust him but because he wanted to be near Dean, and since the man liked having him along, it was only natural.

  


So Cas stood by him, like a sentry, as Dean drank some beer and half-drunkenly swayed along to the classic rock that was blaring on the bar’s speakers. It was just past midnight, but from the way Dean’s shoulders drooped slightly and how the man smiled goofily, Cas knew he would want to leave soon. Sure enough, after he finished the beer he had in his hand, he gave Cas a kiss and whispered, “Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick and then we’ll leave, okay?”

  


Cas smiled. “Of course, Dean. I’ll wait right here.”

  


Dean clapped him on his shoulder before he sauntered off toward the restrooms in the back. Cas let his gaze roam over the rest of the bar, taking in the rest of the patrons. He settled up Dean’s tab with the bartender and left a nice tip, just so that when Dean returned they could leave immediately. The bar was currently at maximum capacity, and while Cas didn’t mind indulging the hunter, he couldn’t wait until they were safe and sound in bed together. Dean got _very_ touchy-feely when he was drunk, and Cas smiled softly at the thought of them together in bed, naked, skin on skin. They might have sex, they might not, it didn’t really matter to the angel. Just so long as he was with Dean and Dean was with him, he was happy. Content. Everything was right with the universe when he held that man in his arms.

  


Castiel sighed as he glanced at the time, slightly puzzled. Dean was taking an inordinately long time in the bathroom, even for being drunk. He glanced back towards the bathroom, as if that would trigger Dean’s appearance, but nothing happened. He waited for a few minutes more, glancing at his phone several times, but something was niggling at the back of Castiel’s mind that something was wrong.

  


He pushed himself off of the bar that he’d been leaning on and made his way toward the back, weaving in and out of groups of patrons before he ducked into the hallway that lead toward the bathrooms. The music was still pounding, but it was slightly muffled and somehow it only agitated Cas more as he opened the door to the men’s restroom to find it oddly empty. He glanced around before he called out, “Dean?” But there was no response. He checked every stall but they were all empty, and an unsettling feeling swept over the angel. This was the only way to get to the bathrooms, and he knew he hadn’t passed him on the way there.

  


Just to make sure, he opened the ladies’ restroom, startling a few women standing at the sink, touching up their makeup. “Sorry,” he apologized, holding up a hand. “I was just looking for someone, I thought he might have … never mind.” Closing the door, Cas turned around and ran his fingers through his hair, thoroughly puzzled and worried. Following the hallway, as it was the only thing he could think of, he saw it lead to an exit. Could Dean have left this way? Why would he have? Maybe he needed a little bit of fresh air?

  


The night air hit him in the chest as he pushed the door open, the coolness a contrast to the heat inside the bar. He looked around, but there was nobody in sight, much less a tall, lanky hunter. Cas narrowed his eyes, his senses on high alert. Something was very wrong, here. It was uncharacteristic of Dean to just bail on him. He hadn’t been blackout drunk, either, or else Cas would have escorted him to the bathroom himself to make sure he didn’t accidentally wander away or hurt himself. Where the hell was he, then? Alarms were going off in Cas’ mind, but above all he was worried. Worried and at a loss as to what to do.

  


He turned to go back inside the bar, wondering if perhaps he really had accidentally passed by Dean and simply missed him, when his foot hit something soft. Looking down, his brow furrowed in confusion. Bending over, he gingerly picked up the coat that he knew Dean had been wearing when he’d left to go to the bathroom. Cas knew now that Dean had indeed come this way, for some reason, and he wouldn’t find him back in the bar. Instead, the angel turned and walked down the alley way, both ways, before circling around and ending up back in the parking lot, wondering if perhaps, in his inebriated state, Dean figured they would meet back at the car. As he approached the Impala, however, Cas could see that it was empty. Turning around in the parking lot, the angel sighed as his eyes kept roving over the cars parked there.

  


Where was Dean?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm only just now getting this up, I had planned to finish and post this yesterday, but I ended up spending my free time writing out show notes for a podcast I'm co-hosting. This is slightly longer, however, so I hope you enjoy. :)

Dean slowly came to through a haze that clouded his mind. He was disoriented and his head was pounding and his mouth was dry as hell and _where the fuck was Cas?_

 

Oh wait, that’s right. At the bar … he’d gone to the bathroom, just a quick piss before leaving. He probably could have waited until they’d gotten back but he wanted to get right to bed once they crossed the threshold, no distractions. While he’d been tending to business, draining the ol’ lizard, another guy had walked into the bathroom and started using the urinal right next to him, despite a whole row of empty urinals. Okay, breaking guy code here, but whatever. Dean was a secure man and could handle a dude peeing next to him, despite how weird it was. However, when the second guy entered the bathroom and stood directly on the other side of him, he couldn’t deny that he was slightly agitated. Just ridiculous, when there was a whole row of available urinals, that two guys just _had_ to stand on either side of him. Whatever. Dean finished, zipped up his fly, and went to wash his hands. Good hygiene was important, after all.

 

As he turned the faucet off and turned around to grab a paper towel to dry his hands with, one of the guys was standing right there, asking him something. Dean hadn’t quite caught what he’d said and asked, “Sorry, what?”

 

The response he got, however, was a hook to the back of the head from the second guy who had casually walked past him, acting like he was heading for the sink. Thrown off for a moment, the two men took the opportunity to grab him and subdue him. He struggled as best he could, but they were larger than even him and strong, and they had the element of surprise on their side. “Hey, what the fuck? Let me go!” he snarled as he struggled against them, a slight rush of relief coursing through him as he heard the bathroom door open. A witness, possibly somebody that would help him.

 

All of that went out the window when the man regarded him with cold eyes and asked, “Is this him?”

 

“Yeah, we’ve been watching him all night. Real pretty boy. He’ll fetch us some good money.”

 

The third man approached him, looking him over. Dean didn’t like the way he was raking his eyes over him, it made him feel supremely uncomfortable. The man’s eyebrow cocked and he got a wicked smile on his face. “Yes, I think he’ll do just fine. Bring him.”

 

He struggled against the two men holding him all the way through the hallway toward the back exit. He yelled as loud as he could, but he doubted anyone could have heard him over the music. His mind was racing, trying to figure out how to get out of this, the buzz from the alcohol already gone. He felt stone cold sober as he was manhandled through the door, the cool night air sweeping over him. One of his captors stumbled at the unexpected step, loosening his grip ever so slightly, and Dean took advantage of it, shrugging out of his jacket and bolting down the alley way, making for the entrance on the other side of the building. If he could just make it to the entrance, make it to Cas, everything would be alright. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself into his angel's arms, feel that familiar, solid body against his.

 

But, of course, it was not to be.

 

Right as he thought he was gaining some good distance on the fuckers, he felt a sting in his neck. He jerked and didn’t think anything of it, but as he rounded the corner, his vision started to blur. Dean shook his head, fighting against it as he saw the neon lights of the entrance, even through the blur. _So close_. But it was already too late. Whatever they’d shot him with was starting to take hold, and even as he closed in on the front door, he stumbled and fell. He tried willing himself to his feet, to his knees, hell just to _crawl_ , but his body ignored him as everything started fading to black. The last thing he coherently remembered was two strong set of hands hauling him up and dragging him through the parking lot, along with the dark, cold voice of the third man commenting, “Ah, good. I like a bit of _fight_ in them.”

 

And now Dean finally awoke, blinking away the haze and swallowing hard against the nausea that rolled over his stomach. There wasn’t really much to currently _see_ , as the room was dark, but he squinted anyway, only able to make out the vague shape of furniture. He shifted his body slightly and wasn’t surprised to feel handcuffs around his wrists and shackles around his ankles. He probably _could_ sit up, if he really wanted to, could probably even get himself around, maybe find a door, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t really accomplish shit. Whoever had grabbed him were professionals, they weren’t about to leave him alone, even if they had drugged him up and restrained him. He wondered how long they would keep him waiting, if they wanted to make him wait to draw out the tortuous anxiety that was wrapping around the base of his spine. He snorted as he briefly wondered which was worse, to wait forever or to know immediately what they wanted to do to him. While he hated this wait, he also dreaded whatever it was that was to come.

 

He wasn’t proud that he jumped when the lights suddenly blazed on, but he didn’t get to dwell on that for long as the door opened and the third man from the night before opened the door and stepped inside, a sly smile on his face as he closed the door behind him. Dean didn’t like the way he looked at him, the way his eyes raked over his body. Even though he was fully clothed, he felt naked, and he set his jaw in defiance, staring back at him with a stoney glare.

 

The man chuckled. “Good. Keep that up. I like defiance. It makes it so much sweeter when I break you.”

 

Dean’s expression didn’t change, but his stomach clenched. _Just what is he going to do to me?_

 

The man approached him, then walked around him, around the small fainting sofa Dean had been left on, observing him like a cat who’d cornered its prey, and with about the same smile. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy you.”

 

“‘Scuse me?”

 

“I always get first dibs on new merchandise. I don’t always take it - I have very specific tastes, you see - but you … oh yes. You’ll do.”

 

Dean had a bad feeling about this, but he asked anyway. “And just what is it you’re going to do to me?”

 

“Oh don’t play daft, now. I’m sure you’re a perfectly smart young man, but since I’m in a generous mood, I’ll indulge you. First, I’ll use you as I see fit, as my personal plaything. I do like the look of those lips, but the glimpse I got of that ass last night … I think I know which option I’ll be taking. After I’m done, we’ll truss you up and sell you in increments to our elite clientele, either by the hour or by the day, if they so wish.”

 

“And what makes you think I’ll cooperate for any of that?”

 

The man chuckled darkly. “Because you won’t have a fucking choice. Resist enough, you’ll be held down. Try to bite, you’ll be fitted with a muzzle. Believe me, we’ve been at this for a long time, we know how to deal with stubborn assets. There is no escape.”

 

Dean’s nostrils flared. “Fuck you.”

 

“Well yes, that _is_ basically the idea, though the other way around.” He reached down to cup Dean’s cheek. “Behave, and you’ll be treated well. Resist, and you’ll be punished. It’s all up to you.”

 

Dean spit in his face.

 

The man grimaced, wiping the saliva from his cheek. “So be it, then.” He man handled Dean to his feet, surprisingly strong for a man who looked to be in his mid-50’s. Dean struggled valiantly against him, but it was like the guy could read his thoughts and counter his moves before he could even get the message to his muscles. He shoved Dean roughly against the high side of the fainting couch, nudging his feet apart as he held him down. The man was obviously well-practiced in doing this, as he expertly held him in place with one hand while he pulled down Dean’s pants with his other. Dean shivered as the cool air met his bare ass, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as the full realization of what was about to happen hit him. He was about to be taken, against his will, violated in one of the most personal of ways. He normally didn’t bottom, but he’d loved it when Cas topped him, going all slow and gentle and spending time building the speed and intensity until every nerve ending felt like it was singing in pleasure. Cas had been the only one he’d allowed to take him in such a way. The thought of the rape alone was almost unbearable, but the thought that something that was previously so intimate between him and his angel, so special and unique between them was about to be violated … it almost hurt worse.

 

He jumped slightly when he felt the cool slick of lube being poured into the crack of his ass. “Now now,” the man said, in a tone that almost suggested boredom, “the less you struggle, the less it will hurt.” Logically, yes, that was true, but Dean couldn’t just lie there and take it. He wiggled and struggled as he felt the man sliding his cock against his entrance, but it was all in vain as he felt the first push and burn of penetration. He shut his eyes tightly, unable to help the tears that started to cascade silently down his cheeks as the man full sheathed himself inside Dean and then began to thrust.

 

_Cas, please help me. Please find me._ He hoped the angel heard him. Even without the ability to fly, he should still be able to hear prayers. Maybe even trace where he was, if he was lucky. Though, that was if Cas would still want him after this. He desperately tried to shove that thought aside, but he couldn’t help the dirty feeling that swept over him as the man continued his thrusting, grunting and moaning above him. The shame that swept over him threatened to choke him. He felt that he should have fought more, fought harder, smarter, _something_. But he hadn’t. He’d failed, he’d allowed himself to be taken, to be violated. Was he really worthy of having an angel anymore?

 

The man grunted hard as he came, spilling inside Dean, and Dean whimpered as he thought softly, _I’m so sorry, Cas._


	3. Chapter 3

Cas stopped at nothing to find Dean. Once he was sure Dean was missing, he immediately called Sam, who joined him at the bar. Utilizing some handy dandy fake IDs, they were able to pull the security video footage to try to trace Dean’s last steps. Castiel frowned as they watched, seeing the three men involved with Dean’s abduction. The feed cut out a little bit in some blind spots, in the alley way, but Cas’ chest ached when he saw how hard Dean had fought and how close he’d come to getting back inside the bar. Guilt washed over him, as he knew that if he’d only paid attention to his gut instinct sooner, he could have intercepted the men and saved Dean. He might not have his full power, but he was more than a match for three men, especially if he was able to free Dean and have him fight alongside him. But who were they? And why did they want Dean? That was the question.

 

Sam pulled Bobby into it as soon as they were walking out of the security room, giving him the run down over the phone and sending the images to him via e-mail. Bobby suggested giving Charlie a call as well, as she was a lot more savvy when it came to the technological side of things. By the time they’d arrived back at the bunker, she had already nabbed identities for all of them, but it wasn’t good.

 

They weren’t supernatural beings, in any known sense. Instead, they were wanted international criminals involved in human trafficking. Something within Castiel clenched as she gave them the run down, detailing their crimes. He felt sick and overwhelmed with guilt. Why hadn’t he checked on Dean sooner? How had it gotten to this? It was then that he heard Dean’s voice in his head, praying to him. _Cas, please help me. Please find me._

 

Castiel didn’t want to imagine what would have prompted Dean to pray like that, but images came to his mind unbidden anyway, turning his stomach. The angel’s heart felt like it stopped as he closed his eyes, knowing Dean wouldn’t hear him but thinking anyway, _Just hold on, Dean, I’m coming for you._

 

That was easier said than done, however. While the boys had infinite experience tracking and dealing with the supernatural, good ol’ regular humans were more unpredictable and difficult. Whereas supernatural beings dealt in rules and restrictions, humans were free to operate however they wished, wherever they wished. They weren’t about to give up, however, as all four of them poured over property records and pounded the pavement interviewing local police and FBI. Sam even managed to get them INTERPOL IDs so they could talk to other INTERPOL agents with minimal suspicion. Every day started the same way … chasing down leads, hunching over the computer, pouring over physical and digital records. These guys were professionals, obviously, they knew how to cover their tracks well, which was why they hadn’t been caught yet. Castiel was determined, however. He wasn’t going to let this go until he found Dean and had him safe and sound back in his arms.

 

Every night he spent the same way as well, lying in bed, ears straining to hear anything from Dean. The man had been praying consistently to him every night, even if it was just a few pleading words. Eventually, though, the prayers got shorter, the content more sparse until it was little more than a mental whimper. Silent tears slid down the angel’s cheeks as he knew Dean was in pain, that he needed him, but he was unable to provide any comfort or relief for him. It was like a constant ache in his chest, like he was empty, missing a part of himself. _Just hang on, Dean. Please just hang on._

 

Finally, _finally_ they had a break. Charlie had more than proved her worth as she was able to suss out property records and identities and had pinpointed where she thought they may have taken Dean. It just took a little hacking working to get into their security feeds, and she was able to confirm where he was being held. She’d cut out any graphic content for Castiel and Sam’s sake, but just seeing him chained there gave them a pretty goddamn good idea what was happening to him, and they both felt sick. For once, they actually cooperated with law enforcement and INTERPOL to organize a raid. It was rare for them, but since they were dealing with actual humans, it seemed logical. They could do the heavy lifting while Castiel could swoop in and scoop Dean.

 

The day of the raid, Castiel was getting anxious, sweating slightly as he waited for the word to go. He was posing as a wealthy business man who was looking for a little … unorthodox entertainment. Dean was his target, of course, but he couldn’t be too obvious about it. They didn’t want to prematurely raise any suspicion that anything was amiss so as to minimize any casualties in the raid. All the angel cared about, however, was getting back to Dean, the sooner the better. He gulped as he tugged on his tie, trying to adopt as nonchalant an appearance as possible. He needed to be suave, fit in, qualities that the angel didn’t exactly exude naturally. Sam had volunteered to do this instead, having far more experience with adopting fake personas, but Castiel refused. This was something he needed to do. He wanted his face to be the one that Dean saw as salvation, not anyone else’s. He had promised Dean that he would find him, and even though the man hadn’t heard him, even though anyone hadn’t heard him, he had made that promise. And he would follow through with it.

 

And so it was that Castiel the angel walked casually into the den of unspeakable iniquity, single-minded in his goal. The man at the counter greeted him cordially, as if this place was actually a respectable establishment. “What can I get for you today, sir?”

 

Castiel rapped his knuckles against the mahogany countertop as he said carefully, “I’m looking for a little … fun … if you know what I mean.”

 

“Well we certainly have a variety of that here,” the man said with a wicked grin. “Just depends on your tastes. What do you go for, female? Male?”

 

“Male, preferably.”

 

“Alright, we have some male escorts here. Any physical preferences?”

 

“Tall, a little lanky … um, I’m really looking something a little … _spry_ …”

 

“Ah,” the man nodded with understanding. “Well if you like a little fight in ‘em, I would recommend the Winchester boy. Room 2.”

 

Castiel nodded, handing over the marked bills as he took the key. The only reason he was able to remain so calm was that he kept picturing himself jabbing his angel blade through the man’s forehead. He walked down the hallway and to the proper room, marked with a fancy filigree number two on the door. He took a deep breath as he inserted the key into the doorknob and turned it. This was it. _Finally_. He would have Dean back. So close now.

 

As he pushed open the door and stepped into the room, the man on the floor jerked to attention. He was thin, pale, bruised, the maltreatment clearly showing. The chain around his neck kept him within reach of the bed and a couple of other pieces of furniture that Castiel desperately tried to not picture Dean bent over. What Castiel was glad to see, however, was that there was still fight in those green eyes, still resistance, still no acceptance of his fate. “Dean,” the angel breathed quietly, rushing to him.

 

Tears welled in the man’s eyes as the sight before him registered. “Cas?” he asked, his voice cracking. “You found me?”

 

“Of course,” Castiel replied, taking the man’s face in his hands and gently settling his forehead against Dean’s. “I would have looked for you until the day I died. I would have never given up.” He drew back just enough so he could look the man in the eye and whispered, “INTERPOL is staging a raid, they should be here within two minutes. We’re getting you out of here. _I’m_ getting you out of here.”

 

Dean pulled the angel close to him, not caring that he wept openly into the angel’s blazer. Castiel didn’t have to be a mind reader to feel the relief rolling off the man in waves. He clutched him tighter as he heard the raid commence outside the room, with shouting and doors being broken down and the occasional gunfire sounding off. Inside the room, however, the two were in a world all their own.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not getting this chapter out sooner, I had a pretty bad lapse of depression and I just had zero inspiration for a while. But I'm back! And about to (try) to go on an updating spree for my other WIP fics ...

After the raid had run its course and all the pertinent people had been rounded up and cuffed and the ambulances were doing the rounds on the captives, Castiel snuck Dean out the back door and into the waiting Impala. Sam wordlessly shifted and then aimed the car toward Sioux Falls, about three and a half hours away. If Dean was driving, they could have made it there in about two and a half, but Sam was a bit more of a careful driver. Nobody spoke the entire trip, Sam just kept his eyes to the road and Castiel held Dean close to him in the back. He hadn’t let go of him since he’d found him and the man wasn’t protesting anytime soon, relishing the comforting feel of his lover that he’d been denied so long. There were so many issues to address, so many wounds to close, but for now this was enough to get him through.

 

When they arrived, Bobby ushered them in quickly, looking around as if he was checking if anyone had followed them. Nobody had, of course, it was just old hunter instinct that was hard to kick. Not a bad habit to have, though. When asked what he wanted, food, rest, anything, the one thing he could really think of was, “I really want a fuckin’ shower.”

 

He had been given spot baths during his captivity, just enough so he didn’t stink for the clients and to clean up the bodily fluids after each session, but never any actual cleansing. Not like a bath or a shower then would have made him feel clean. But it would have been nice. He’d been told he would have been provided more amenities if he only cooperated, but he refused to give in, refused to show weakness. Only in the depths of the night, when he was finally left alone in the dark, only then did he allow himself to fall apart. Only a little, though, just enough to relieve the pressure of the growing darkness within himself before he stuffed it back down and built himself back up so he could be brave for the next day. He prayed to Castiel every night, as much as he could, though over time he found he’d run out of words. He still yearned for him, though, yearned for his angel, his comforting presence, his familiar touch. Anything that would banish the hell that he’d inadvertently fallen into.

 

He was given a towel and he made his way toward the bathroom that he instinctively knew after all this time. He’d spent countless days at Bobby’s, both growing up and as an adult, and Bobby had simply left the house the way it was for the most part. It was comforting, in a way, to hear the familiar groans of the floorboards as he walked down the hall and the creak of the door as he opened and then closed it behind him. He left the towel on the bathroom sink and turned on the water, as hot as he could stand it, before he stripped down and stepped in.

 

Once he did, it was like a barrier fell in his mind, and the tears started coming before he could even stop them. He tried to hold them at bay, fight against them, push them aside and forget all the pain that he had endured. He didn’t want it anymore, he was free now. But that didn’t matter to his tattered nerves, and he closed his eyes as he leaned against the wall, letting the hot water beat down against his body. Sobs racked his body as he slowly sank to the floor of the tub, abandoning the original pretense of the shower in favour of a little privacy for his breakdown. If he had to do this, had to go through this, he didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Not Bobby or Sam. Especially not Cas. God, did Cas know what had been happening to him? What he had been forced to do? A wave of shame overcame him as he wanted to just disappear. Of course they knew, how couldn’t they know? He wondered if Cas even still wanted to be with him after this. Self-doubt, depression, anxiety, and an encroaching darkness enveloped him as he simply sat there, trying not to let him physically choke him as he worked just to breathe. He simply sat there like that, barely moving, feeling like he was falling further and further away as the water started to grow cold. He still didn’t move to get up, however, sure that his family were all judging him for the situation he had found himself in. He was a seasoned hunter, he had fought against ghosts and wendigos and demons and angels, how the hell did regular humans get the drop on him? He had been asking himself this question for days, weeks, for the whole time he’d been captured, and if he was honest he didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why. And that perhaps ate at him most of all.

 

The shower suddenly cut off and Dean whipped his head up to see Castiel leaning over into the tub, turning off the water that had gone ice cold. He’d barely even noticed the temperature, too wrapped up in his thoughts to even realize that he’d been shivering. Those familiar blue eyes fixated on him as the angel offered him the towel. “Dean?”

 

“Cas, I …” was all Dean could get out between his chattering teeth and the sobs that were threatening to take over his body once more. He tried to quickly compose himself, rebuild the walls that he usually kept up so successfully, but it was all for naught. The angel knew. But what’s more, the angel didn’t draw attention to it, didn’t use it against him. Instead, he beheld Dean in all his vulnerability and simply helped the man to his feet. Castiel wasn’t about to leave him now, now that he’d finally found him, and he would prove it to the man over and over again if he had to, no matter how many times he would need to. And he would need to. Dean would need him to. And Cas would rise to the occasion.

 

For now, Dean just needed to get out of the tub and get dressed.

 

After he’d dressed, still shivering slightly under the layers of flannel, Cas guided him to a room and let him compose himself before he faced Sam and Bobby, so he could do so without the crying jags taking over. “I’m sorry, Cas, I … I don’t …”

 

Cas cut him off, rubbing his shoulder. “You don’t need to explain anything, Dean. Just take your time. Do you need anything?”

 

Need? He needed so much, but in that moment all he could think of was burying himself in Cas’ arms and blocking out the rest of the world. Wordlessly he pulled himself into the angel and the angel reciprocated, wrapping his arms around the man and holding him tightly until the man’s breaths came more evenly and quietly, until he had a better handle on himself. It wasn’t denial anymore, it was the beginning of acceptance. Of healing. Dean had a way to go, but the first steps were always the most important.

 

It took time, of course. Dean wasn’t one to talk, and the others didn’t want to push him, but Cas made sure to that he was always there for him, available if the man needed some support. In the early days, he needed Cas with him constantly, a reassuring presence as he readjusted to life outside of sex trafficking. Eventually, he needed him a little less, his anxiety waning as he stretched himself further and further. At night, he still clung to the angel but during the day he slowly became more independent and less needy. There was just one aspect of life that just wasn’t quite falling into place like it used to, and it was starting to bother Dean.

 

It’s not like he expected to be able to immediately have sex again with no issues, but it had been weeks, _months_ , since Cas had rescued him and he just couldn’t even think of sex the way he used to. He’d loved having sex with Cas, loved how tender and loving the angel could be, but anytime he even thought of bottoming for him he start to sweat and a shiver would run up his spine. He just didn’t think he could do it, not yet, and it frustrated him. He wanted things to go back to normal but he couldn’t push himself past this.

 

Castiel was understanding, as always, giving him the space he needed and eventually suggesting that, if Dean did want to try something, that the angel wasn’t unopposed to bottoming for him. They had successfully been able to frottage and even jack the other off, it was just that extra step that Dean couldn’t take himself. He’d only been a bottom for the angel and not being able to was starting to get to him. So Cas took it upon himself to suggest that he, the angel, bottom instead.

 

“What?”

 

“If you think it would help, if you want to, you can be on top.”

 

“But … but I’ve never topped you.” It was true. Dean was normally a top when it came to other men, but with Cas he’d never wanted anything more than to bottom. And Cas-had never once, to Dean’s knowledge, bottomed for anyone else. “Have you ever even been a bottom?”

 

A very light flush alighted on the angel’s cheeks, and Dean smirked ever so slightly as the angel tried not to let himself get flustered. “Well, no, I haven’t. But I trust you, Dean. And if it would help you, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to help you.”

 

Dean gnawed at his lip, considering it. He didn’t get that panicky, achy feeling in his chest when he considered it, so that was a good sign that he wouldn’t freak out. But it was just … a little odd. It completely changed the dynamic of their sexual relationship. But if Cas really was willing … Dean knelt in front of Cas, who was sitting on the bed, and asked, “Are you sure?”

 

Cas nodded firmly, fixing the man with his gaze. “Yes.”

 

“You trust me that much?”

 

“I trust you implicitly.”

 

“If it hurts, if at any time you don’t want …”

 

“Dean.” Cas laid a finger against the man’s lips. “I. trust. you.” The angel leaned forward until his lips were practically on the man’s ear as he whispered, “Now get up here and fuck me.”

 

The rest of Dean’s hesitation fell away as he pulled Cas into a fierce kiss, pushing him back until he was lying against the bed, Dean’s weight gently restraining him, their growing erections pressing against each other. For this moment, things felt normal, and that was all Dean ever wanted so he relished it, soaked it in, let it wash over him as his fingers deftly unbuttoned Cas’ shirt. The angel let him do as he pleased, and he slowly undressed the both of them, lying them both in the middle of the bed once he was finished, just enjoying the feel of skin against skin. Castiel purposefully held himself back, wasn’t as pushy or dominant as he normally was. He didn’t want to do anything that would trigger Dean. This wasn’t about Cas, not really, it was about Dean’s journey to full health. And Cas would let him do whatever he needed to do to get there. So while Dean gripped and pulled him into the position he wanted Cas to be in, the angel simply let him, granting him soft caresses and gentle kisses, never pushing too far or too fast. The opposite of how it had been for them before, he let Dean set the pace, determine their next move, and Castiel simply encouraged him.

 

Dean had slowly made his way down Cas’ body, kissing and worshipping every inch of him. As he hovered over the angel’s hard cock, he flicked his eyes up at him, to see how he was reacting, and he found that Cas was only looking at him, observing, his blue eyes slitted and his lips slightly parted. “Are you sure …” he went to ask one more time, but Cas was having none of it.

 

The angel set his jaw and said, “Dean, if I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have suggested it.”

 

Dean nodded, his conscience feeling clear as he asked, “Pass me the bottle of lube, then.”

 

Castiel complied and Dean popped it open easily, dripping some onto his fingers and swirling them to warm them up a little. He didn’t personally mind cold lube himself, but for a first time bottom, he would pull out all the stops to make sure his angel was comfortable. Just because he was willing to do this didn’t mean that he was about to take liberties with him. Dean cared very deeply about him, he wasn’t a plaything or an object to use for his pleasure. He was Castiel, angel of the lord, and he belonged to Dean, heart, mind, and soul. Well, grace. Same difference.

 

He slowly teased his entrance as he worked his tongue up and down the angel’s cock, watching him carefully for his reaction, for any ounce of hesitation on the angel’s part, but Castiel only let his head fall back as he moaned, shifting ever so slightly to open his legs more for Dean. Well, that was encouraging. He gently breached him with one finger, concentrating on the blowjob and Cas only moaned slightly loader and deeper. As he worked him open, he searched for that one little bump, that one gland that would really help seal the deal, and as he crooked his finger he found it and smiled as he pressed against it.

 

If he hadn’t been holding onto him, Cas would have leapt off the bed at the new sensation. His eyes flew open and he whipped around to look at Dean, who only smiled slyly at him. “So that’s …”

 

“Yeah,” Dean replied with a slight snicker, adding another finger as he continued to lick and suck on the angel’s cock. Cas let his head fall back against the pillow again, closing his eyes as he lost himself in both the old and new sensations that were sweeping over him. Two fingers eventually became three and Dean spent his time finger fucking him to make sure that he would be ready. Just because it was his first time didn’t mean it had to hurt. And Dean was going to make sure it was the best time he could possibly give him. He didn’t realize until much later, when they were both consumed in post-coital bliss, that that had been a part of Cas’ plan, that concentrating on him had allowed him to let loose and to ignore everything else that was going on in his head.

 

In the moment, though, all that consumed him was the angel lying before him.

 

Castiel was slowly lifting his hips in time with Dean’s thrust, and he seemed pretty ready, but Dean still had to voice the question as he asked, “Cas, are you … do you think …”

 

“Dean if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear to Dad …”

 

Well, that was all he needed. He generously lubed up his own cock with his free hand before he slid his fingers out of his angel, lining up his cock with the entrance as he slowly pushed, going as slow as he could. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat, as Dean was nicely endowed, and even the thorough stretching hadn’t completely prepared him for the girth that he was about to take on. Dean could fell his hesitation, could feel that something was just a little off as he said, “Hey, are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

 

Castiel shook his head firmly. “No, just … slow.”

 

Dean nodded, continuing the agonizingly slow pace as he gradually impaled the angel, adding more lube when necessary and peppering the angel’s neck with kisses as their hips finally met. He didn’t even dare move at first, even though every instinct in him was screaming at him, wanting him to grind and pull back and snap forward over and over again until he chased that relief straight off a cliff. He wasn’t about to do that at Castiel’s expense, even though the angel would have let him.

 

It wasn’t until Castiel pulled him into a passionate kiss before he said, “Dean, I know it’s been a while since you’ve topped, but customarily you do _move_ at this point …”

 

Dean chuckled and took that to mean Cas was ready for him, but he still went slow as he pulled out and gently pushed in again. The angel moaned, lifting his hips and grinding against him, and Dean realized he was more than ready. He picked up the pace slightly, still watching, still waiting to see if there was any hesitation or need to stop in the angel, but there was none. Cas simply wrapped his legs around Dean and pulled him as close as he could while the man pounded away, still gentler than he normally would have, but enough to get them both there. Dean leaned back a little, angling his hips to catch Castiel’s prostate as he used a lubed up hand to stroke the angel’s otherwise neglected dick. Cas’ breaths were coming fast and heavy, matching the pace that Dean set, and a slight tremor went through the angel’s legs as he said, “Dean, I …”

 

That was all the angel could get out before his orgasm overtook him, shooting hot spurts over his own chest. The natural tightening of his channel spurred Dean on, and he leaned down to kiss his angel as he chased his own end, eventually stilling as he spilled inside him.

 

For a moment, they simply laid there, breathing heavily, sweat pouring over them, the smell of sex and heat permeating the room. Nothing a little - okay, a _lot_ \- of frebreze wouldn’t help, but goddamn if neither of them could fucking _move_. When they eventually did, it was Dean, and it was only far enough to fetch a nearby towel to clean them both off before he slipped back in bed with the angel, pulled the covers around them as they settled into each other, just like they had done so many other nights. He still had some ways to go, as far as recovery went, but he felt just a little bit closer tonight. Cas had given him exactly what he needed to get over this little hump, and he felt like the cloud that hung around him was just a little lighter, just a little brighter for it. He smiled as Castiel wrapped his arms around him, breathing in the angel’s scent as he lazily dozed. He didn’t care what anybody said, Cas was his and he was Cas’ and nothing and nobody could ever change that. He knew that now.

 

Castiel would always come for him.


End file.
